I'd like a peace of goodwill, please

This morning my eyes popped open wide at 5 am and I had my first Christmas anxiety attack. I knew it was coming--happens every year. Christmas was a lot more fun when I was a kid and not just because Santa visited me. My parents (especially my Mom) made Christmas perfect. We had the tree, the decorations, the music, the TV specials, the sugar cookie baking session, and every other detail you can imagine. She made it very special for me and I didn't even realize how great I had it.

Now I am responsible for the Christmas happiness of my children and I don't think I am as good at it as my mom was. It's very stressful. We have only half of our decorations up, the tree still needs to be trimmed, and I still have presents to buy. I always procrastinate on shopping since I hate shopping (well, for other people anyway.) I am baking today because I am in two cookie exchanges. The kitchen looks like a bag of cocaine exploded in it--I am a messy baker. I think I have inhaled more powdered sugar than went on the cookies. Sage's holiday party is Thursday and I have to send in a bottle of olive oil for that. It is an international holiday party--how festive. Then we have Shepard's party on Friday, teachers' gifts to buy, Christmas cards to send, and more baking for gifts--then there's wrapping presents, seeing family, and visiting Santa. Sorry have to go breathe in a bag now.

Bob Loblaw gave me pink eye

To understand that title you would have to be a "South Park" fan and an "Arrested Development" fan. And if you aren't then you are not as cool as I am.

The phlegm has been flying around here since before Thanksgiving. It started with Typhoid Alan then jumped to Shepard and then to me. So I have been suffering for the past week. The doctor gave me some lie about my burning throat and itchy ears being caused by a virus so no drugs for me. I wanted to tell her "Look I know you see a lot of sick people but I am feeling worse than all of them so cure me and do it now. I've got children and a husband to mother." Mothers should get top priority on any curing drugs in my opinion.

That reminds me, have you ever had to whisper scream? Saturday was my worst day and I spent most of it bundled up on the couch trying to fight the infection within. My family takes my unconscious state to mean that it's a 'no rules, no chores and no personal responsibility day.' So when dinner time came along and my husband had not gone to the grocery store like he was supposed to but instead said that he took "me time" on the Xbox, that's when the whisper scream was born. You can still be scary and menacing even when you are sick with no voice to speak of.

Just some advice if you are ever using the whisper scream yourself...To be most effective when using the whisper scream you must A.) Be close to the object of your ire--I mean right up on their shit B.) Use as many curse words as you can string together--and use your pointer finger in a stabbing motion when you say them C.) Threaten bodily harm in a descriptive manner.

Here's an example for you--Step in close and say, "Don't be fucking (finger stab) surprised if you wake up in the middle of the night to find that your balls are stuck in your shitty ass (finger stab) paper shredder being ground up into tiny bits. And while your blood is spurting and you are screaming, I'll be taking some fucking (finger stab) ME TIME (oh, do the fingers in air quotes when you say that) while I play Fable fucking II on the Xbox, you punk ass bitch (finger stab right into his chest.) Then you go back to your sick couch and pretend to sleep but make sure you have a pleasing smile on so it looks like you are dreaming about doing the bodily harm.

And that's how the whisper scream is done.

The cure for hiccups

I have discovered it! But more on that later.

At the beginning of our four days off I was full of hope and fancy ideas. I imagined quality time with our happy children and a peaceful Thanksgiving with our loving family. Why do I have these silly ideas? Am I high? It started well enough. Wednesday evening Alan and I took the kids to a movie and then spent the rest of the evening cuddling and watching TV in front of the fire. We were in such a good mood we even ended the evening with some boot knockin' and drifted off to sleep with smiles on our faces.


But I awoke at 1:30 am with severe nausea. At first I thought it might have been the popcorn. I have this disorder that causes me to continue eating popcorn until I make myself sick. However, along with the nausea, I also had chills and a headache and surmised that I was suffering from a virus. I was on the border of Vomitland but I fought it. I did not want to revisit that movie popcorn or my taco dinner. I did manage to make it through the night without losing it and was finally able to keep down a nausea pill and a sip of water. The nausea pill had the lovely side effect of making me sleep the whole day. So Alan was left to straighten the house and make the turkey for Thanksgiving.

I woke up about an hour before dinner. Alan was frantic since the turkey had gone into the oven an hour later than he planned and the cleaning had not been completed. I was a bit miffed and left to wonder what he had been doing for the past 8 hours. I also was perplexed as to why our children (or as I call them 'the help') were outside playing when there was work to be done. Do you think I went through 18 months of pregnancy, a C-section and a natural birth so they could have fun when my house needs cleaning?! And Geez Alan, if you can't multitask because you are retarded than at least use your resources! That left weak me to vacuum and dust. So the kids were running wild and Alan and were involved in a snippy snip fest when our 22 guests started to arrive.

The dinner was great and, since everyone brings their signature dish, the food was incredible. We only had two small incidents. There were two family members (one on his side and one on mine) who got mad and went out to sit in their car like silly whiny babies. They did return eventually and the evening was a success. Even Alan and I had made up by the end of the night. However, I told him that I would not be able to have sex with him for a while since the last time we did it I awoke a few hours later with severe nausea. I needed time to work through the trauma.

So this brings me to hiccups. Sunday evening I had a bad case of the hiccups and Alan managed to convince me that having sex would cure them. He made a very good case and I had to know if it was true. I had no sooner agreed to the sex when I realized the hiccups were gone. Just saying yes cured me completely!! I didn't even have to go through with the sex! I thanked Alan for curing me and then turned over and went to sleep. Don't worry, Alan got his the next morning. I am powerless to resist him for long. No, I am serious, I was powerless to resist him. It was really early and I was half asleep.

Drink, drank, drunk

Oh Alan, he's the love of my life. Together we have made beautiful memories that I hold dear to my heart--especially the drunk and hazy ones. So as promised, here is my favorite drunk Alan story.

The year was 1996...I think. Hey what do I know? I was drunk a lot too. Come on, we were young, newlyweds and childless. What else did we have to do? Well yeah, we did that a lot too. Ok, back to the story. Stop distracting me!! Since I was working at the hospital for an evening shift (3pm to 11pm) Alan decided to meet one of his high school buddies for "happy hour" after work. When I called him at home at 9pm there was no answer. I tried again at 10pm and no answer. I was starting to get really worried at that point and doing the woman thing of imaging the worst possible scenario. I also did the woman thing of calling every 10 to 15 minutes thinking that would make a difference. Near the end of my shift at about 11pm, I called again and this time he answered the phone with what sounded like "Aaaah Oooooo." I said, "Did you just get home?" And he answered, "aaa-wh-ga." My intense worried feelings switched to anger as I said, "Fine, I'm on my way home" and slammed the phone down.

When I arrived home I found him face down on the bed wearing a robe. I was able to rouse him enough to get him under the covers. I turned out the light and lay there fuming. All of a sudden I heard bad noises coming from his side of the bed. Noises kind of like the 'ack ack' of a cat with the 'gurgle huk' of a drunk guy. I sat up, turned on the light and saw him doing the heaving motions. I screamed, "Get up!! Go to the bathroom!!! Run!!" He got up, stumbled around the bed and started running toward the bathroom. I glanced at the bathroom and my brain screamed "Crap!" because the door was closed. I frantically jumped out of bed and started running toward the door to try and avert disaster but drunk guy inertia beat me out. He hit the closed door, bounced off of it and then spewed all over the door. I arrived at the door just in time to turn the dripping door knob and guide him to the toilet. While he was having his special time with the porcelin, I was busy wiping the door down and muttering curses under my breath at him.

As Alan finished up he started to giggle. He laughed and laughed and said, "I think I drank too much." I said, "You think?!" I helped him up and turned on the shower. I tried to remove his vomit splattered robe but he protested, "It's the only thing keeping me warm." I managed to wrestle it off of him and pushed him into the shower. Then he turned around and said to me, "You're mean!" (Oh my, the foreshadowing. I hear that phrase almost everyday of my life now that I have kids.) And I said to him, "Oh, you don't know what mean is! You wait until tomorrow, mister!" (Again foreshadowing, I had the motherly instinct even back then.)

I'm not as think as you drunk I am

Over the weekend we had some very good friends visiting from out of town--I'll call them Barbie and Ken. They are married and have kids the same ages as our kids. They live in another state now and so when we get together we make up for lost time. We enjoyed a long evening that included much food and drink. In fact, between the four of us we polished off three bottles of wine and several beers. After they left, Alan and I stayed up to clean the kitchen. We then went upstairs to check on the kids. As we passed by the boys' bathroom we saw a startling sight--someone had totally yakked in our sink (you know puked, vomited, barfed, blew chunks, did the technicolor yawn.) We were stunned, baffled, appalled and amused all at the same time. It was a sight right out of a fraternity party. After careful examination of the contents and volume of said vomitus we concluded that all kids were ruled out as suspects. It had to have been either Ken or Barbie. Since Ken had to drive, he didn't have more than a beer or three so we deduced that it had to be Barbie. Because there had been no attempt to clean up the mess and the fact that it was totally out of character for Barbie, we were quite shocked. When it came time to clean it up Alan disappeared, assuming, I suppose, that since I'm a nurse I was used to such things. I guess that's fair. I have seen a lot of vomit in my lifetime but I don't think one ever becomes used to it. I have learned to breathe through my mouth though.

The next morning I got a call from Barbie who confessed to the act. She was mortified and very apologetic. She explained that after she did it she left the bathroom to go downstairs to get some paper towels for clean up. However, by the time her foot hit the last step, she had forgotten. She woke in the middle of the night with the horrible realization that yes, it happened and yes, I left it in their sink! Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time with friends reminiscing instead of making new memories. But I think we just made a new memory. And I will cherish it.

****I love drunk stories so feel free to share some of your own. And coming soon...one of my favorite drunk Alan stories. Which one will it be? So many choices.

OMG TMJ WTF?

My saga of woe all started last week when I decided to clean the house. I vacuumed way too much and ended up with a lower back ache. I still had to continue with my normal activities--herding children, working my shifts at the hospital and house management. So my backache started a downward spiral of self-pity. Lying horizontal on the couch is not conducive to blogging or even reading my favorite blogs. So I am sorry I have neglected you. But come on, we were on a break!!

Anyway, the weekend passed and I thought "Ok, a new week, a new beginning" but that was a bunch of optimistic crap. I ended up at the doctor on Tuesday being diagnosed with TMJ or Temporomandibular joint disorder. He thinks I am grinding my teeth in my sleep and causing severe pain in the left side of my jaw. He said it's caused by stress and then he shook his head knowingly when he found out I had two sons. So the treatment is an anti-inflammatory (isn't that the treatment for everything?) heat, soft foods and stress reduction. I almost asked him for a doctor's note to give to Alan. Sorry honey, can't put any very large items in my mouth, doctor's orders.

Yesterday while the kids were in school I spent the morning doing a jigsaw puzzle while listening to ABBA on my iPod. It was strangely soothing. Yes, I am aware that is how many mental patients spend their time. So what's your point? It helped. I am not totally back to normal but I am ready to catch up with everyone. So be patient with me, I am Temporomandibularly Challenged.

Hips don't lie

For me exercise is one of those things that I know I have to do but have never loved--much like going to the dentist, having a pap smear or performing a Lewinsky. I don't care what form of exercise I am doing, I loathe it and watch the clock until it is mercifully over. It starts in the parking lot of the gym. I am driving around looking for the closest parking spot to the door. What is wrong with me? I didn't get the exercise gene. I swear I don't think I have endorphins, I've never gotten high at the gym, dammit.

My other problem is that I have a phobia associated with working out. I can't work out without listening to my iPod but I love to sing loudly when I listen to my iPod. Though when I am singing at the top of my lungs I am always inside my house or cutting the grass where no one can here me. So as I am walking the treadmill yesterday morning I am scared to death that I am going to start screaming out, in a Tourette's like fashion, song lyrics. Can you imagine? I'm rolling along on the treadmill and all of a sudden I belt out "All my flavors are guaranteed to satisfy!" Or I'm stepping along on the cross trainer when I throw my arms up and rapping "Now just throw your hands in the motherfucking air and wave the motherfuckers like you just don't care. What's my motherfucking name? Snoop Doggy Dooooooooog. Bow wow wow, yipee oh yippe a, Bow wow wow yippee O Shit!" (I just opened my eyes to see all the gym people starting at me with shocked faces.) So you see the problem, it's just too risky.

Today I decided to change it up and take a Zumba class. It's a dance/exercise class to jaunty Latin tunes. I haven't taken an exercise class in years so at first I was quite rigid and self-conscious. The instructor was Woooo Hooooing and people were shouting out "Ya-Ha!" and "Arriba!" I'm serious, they were. Cynical me was thinking 'What the hell am I doing here?!' There was a lot of shaking body parts involved and a lot of fancy shamancy steps and then the instructor called out "Are you ready to party, ladies?! Do the Merengue step!" Oh Patrick Swayze! Help me, where ever you are!! Then the jumping started and I think I peed myself--yeah, a little bit. (Curse you Shepard and your big head!) Now she's screaming "Don't forget to breathe!" Fuck, I forgot to breathe! By the end of class I had loosened up a bit and was getting my Shakira on. I even threw out a little 'Wooooo.' I couldn't commit to the 'Hooooo' though. Maybe next class. After class, I found myself wandering in the parking lot like a freaking retard because I couldn't remember where my car was. My brain must have been oxygen deprived. I wish I had remembered to breathe!

Crucial, life affecting decisions

I am strangely at peace today. Though I was not thrilled with either candidate, I am glad it is decided. It was very exciting and hard not to get caught up in the historic aspect of the victory. And I have decided to adopt Shepard's philosophy of life which he learned in preschool--You get what you get and you don't throw a fit! So life is good and it's time to move on to more important decisions like my cell phone ringer.

I love personalized ringers. It is my greatest joy of cell phone ownership--to decide what ringer I would like for each of my family members and friends. I recently got a cool new phone and have to start from scratch with my ringers. I have already downloaded Alan's ringer--it's always been 'Sexual Healing' by Marvin Gaye. It's perfect for him but has caused some uncomfortable moments like when I was standing with the car mechanic and Alan called. I couldn't get to the phone fast enough and it kept singing "When I get that feeling, I want sexual healing..." The guy glared at me with a creepy smile and I could just read his thoughts, "Heh heh, you ain't a virgin, is ya?"

What I am stressing over now is what I am going to download as my all-purpose ringer. My most recent one was the theme song from "Halloween." But now that Halloween is over I am going to use that ringer for work. The two ringers I am considering are "Stronger" by Kanye West or "So What" by Pink. What do you think?

So after I make this most momentous decision I will move on to individuals--my mom, dad, and two sisters (they will be called JaJa and JuJu.) For my mom I was thinking 'Tara's theme' from Gone with the Wind 'cause she's a strong little southern belle. My dad will definitely have to be 'The Imperial March' from Star Wars.

I have two older sisters and they are more problematic. I used to have the theme from 'Cops' for my oldest sister JaJa because she is the grand dame of the Jerry Springer faction of my family. She has three daughters and, when they all lived together, they were very fond of calling the police on each other. When my middle sister JuJu heard my ringer for JaJa she thought it was hysterical. Good thing she didn't know that my ringer for her was 'Crazy Train.'

Decisions, decisions...I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.

I fear change

Election Day. It's finally arrived and I am so relieved. When I woke up it was raining hard. I think God is crying. But I am trying to look on the bright side--the campaign is over. I am glad that at the end of the day we will finally know our fate. It's the not knowing that makes my stomach churn.

I took the boys with me and voted. I said to Sage, "Wasn't that exciting?" and he said, "No, it was kind of boring." I had no trouble voting--no long lines or riots in the street--yet. The worst part is that, like an idiot, I scheduled myself to work this evening. I called and told them I couldn't come in bcause I would be busy burying my guns in the backyard. They didn't buy it. I don't want to go to work, I would much rather sit in front of the TV all evening torturing myself.

Whoever wins I am not going to be happy. I don't like change, any kind of change. I like my life the way it is and I don't want either guy skulking around and telling me how much I have to sacrifice. However I did find this little clip. Wow, that sounds pretty good to me too. Can't wait!

***Hey Joe Biden, stop calling my house! The campaign is over, you freaking psycho!

Stream of Consciousness Monday

I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about trick or treating geese. I don't remember what their costumes were. Dammit! All the pumpkin muffins are gone. I spent all day Thursday baking for 2 Halloween parties, one Fall festival and one Pumpkin festival. I do not really enjoy cooking but I do like to bake. I was about to make cupcakes for Shepard's preschool party when I read an email from the another child's mother. She said, "I just finished making cupcakes for the party tomorrow!" Whore! I told her I was making the cupcakes! Now I had to think of another snack to send in. I sent in string cheese cut to look like a finger with a grape on the end for a fingernail. The teacher loved it. Take that cupcake whore!

Yay, I just discovered that my love for Joe Jonas is not a forbidden love. He's 19! Why is my body rejecting alcohol as I get older? You would think it would be used to it by now. Had a slight hangover on Saturday from the neighborhood Halloween party Friday night. Sage was a faceless phantom and Shepard a ninja. The kids fell asleep in our bed that night and we were too tired and buzzed to move them. I had to move them back to their room at 4:30 am because Shepard kept head butting me in his sleep. Then we had to be up early for Shepard's 8:30 am soccer game. One of the coaches kids puked on the sideline. Guess he had a rough night too. Shepard scored three goals. He seems to be really into soccer. Sage never was. He would gallop around the field like a horse or bark at the other team. He didn't really score goals but the coach always complimented him on his intimidation tactics.

I think I am a sexual psychic. Last night I had a stomachache so I told Alan it was no go. But in the middle of the night, I woke up feeling quite...um, interested. However, we have to get up so early that I didn't want to wake Alan. So I just lay there thinking those thoughts you think when all of a sudden Alan was semi-conscious and one thing led to another and--Wow! So this morning Alan said, "Did we do something last night?" And I giggled and said, "Yeah, we did!" And he giggled and I giggled again. And later I realized "I woke him up with only the power of my dirty mind. I'm like a superhero!" Giggle.

We will have years of enjoyment from Alan's Halloween costume. I am making a list of all the family members that I want to punk.

And what do you think of me? Have you ever seen a sexier Halloween costume? I am so a'peel'ing.

Happy Monday!

You don't know Jack!

We had the family pumpkin carving festivities last night. Our first pumpkin started out as an alien, then transformed into a devil then ended up as a bull. So he is a E.T. Devil Bull with tongue hanging out. That stuff on top is his brains.

The second pumpkin was Sage's idea and Alan helped him realize his evil vision. Those guys are truly disturbing. I love it!!

Happy Halloween!

Here's a present for my friend Zibbs over at That Blue Yak. Here's a treat for you that I found online--A Halloween moon.

Tales from the Mini Van

I have never admitted this publicly but I am now the owner of a mini van. It happened this summer. I am a bit embarrassed by it since I have always been a bit anti mini van. But I couldn't take the Oldsmobile station wagon anymore. Our driveway looked like that drunk Exxon Valdez captain had been hanging out there and I needed a new ride. So we went car shopping which I rank up there with bathing suit or bra shopping. Hate it!!! I didn't go looking for a mini van but she somehow found me. And when I sat in her...oh, it was magic. The mini van, she seduced me--her comfortable seats, her multiple drink holders, her 6 CD changer, her automated doors, her tinted windows, and stow and go seating--I was in love. And I have never looked back.

The car is an interesting place for a parent. Mostly it is a giant torture chamber. Forget water boarding, just try putting a terrorist in a car with my 2 boys. Here's how it would go--the terrorist, let's call him Bob, is driving along, practicing safe defensive driving when all of a sudden he hears a scream from Shepard. Sage just took his toy. Bob yells at Sage to give the toy back and Sage is saying, "Huh? I can't hear you. Shepard is screaming." So the screaming continues until Bob threatens to "Pull this car over!" Bob never thought he would say that in his life, but he was wrong. Then Sage starts to whine that Shepard is not sharing the snack. The whining continues until he yanks the snack from Shepard's hand and Shepard begins to cry again. Then Sage asks to go to the library. Bob says no because we have to go to the bank. Both kids whine because they don't want to go to the bank. Bob arrives at the bank drive thru and is in line when he hears a sneeze. He looks back in the rear view mirror to see two snot stalactites hanging from Sage's nose AND he does not have a tissue. He finds a piece of paper under the seat and hands it back to Sage who has already used his sleeve anyway. He leaves the bank and turns up the radio to hear the news when both boys ask to hear the Miley Cyrus CD. He says no and the loud protests and shouting start "Why can't we hear Miley, Terrorist Bob?! Why do you hate Miley?! I want to hear some music!!!" They are so loud that he misses the news and so he gives in and puts on Miley. So here is Bob--stuck in traffic, listening to Miley Cyrus when from the back he hears "I have to pee right now!!" Terrorist Bob will break, I guarantee it.

However, there are some quiet moments in the car. I have discovered that it can be a great environment to talk to your kids about life issues. For some reason they tend to open up more in the car. It may have something to do with the fact that I am not looking directly at them trying to invade their brains with my mother vision. I guess the back of my head is less threatening. So we have some good conversations.

Yesterday, Sage said, "Mommy, remember that time you ran over that Christmas tree? How old was I, three?" (I was driving 65 on the interstate when the car in front of me veered off suddenly to the other lane. I found myself confronted with a Christmas tree someone had dropped off of their car. With no time to avoid it, I thought I was going to wreck but my Oldsmobile ran right over it and I kept going. I wonder if that had anything to do with all that oil leakage.)

"Yes, you were three?"

Shepard asked, "How old was I?"

"Shepard, you were still in my tummy. You weren't born yet."

Sage said, "Mommy ate you." Shepard's eyes went wide.

"No, I didn't eat you! You were a little baby and you were growing safe in my tummy until you were ready to come out."

Shepard, "How did I get in your tummy?"

"God put you there."

Shepard, "How did God put me there?"

Flashback: One summer day when I was a young teen, I was watching 'The Young and the Restless' with my mom. Teenage Tracy had just found out she was pregnant. My mom turned to me and said, "You should never have sex before you are married." And that was the extent of my sexual education from my parents. That is why I vowed that I would always be open with my children about sex and sensitive subjects. Education helps make better choices. BUT, Shepard is four and he is looking at the back of my head so I did not think this was the right time to explain to my children where babies come from.

So with the question still lingering in the air I said, "Well Shepard, God was in heaven and he decided that you should be a part of our family, so he...OH LOOK, COWS!!!!"

And he turned to look and started mooing and that was the end of that.

Tattoo you?

Sage strikes again. Let me remind you of the first time Sage wrote on his brother. Will Shepard ever learn not to trust the devil that is his older brother? I think not.
This happened while they were serving punishment time in their room. Sage claims Shepard wanted him to do it which I tend to believe since, among other things, he had a pirate drawn on his chest and a volcano on his forehead. But I don't think Shepard asked for this little gem on his lower back.

Crisis over

You may return to your lives, the crisis is over. My husband has finally honored me with a comment or two. It seems he does value his whites being separated from his colors, a clean plate to eat his wonderfully home-microwaved meals, and the cute way I fold his boxer briefs into swans to leave on his pillow at night. So wifely duties are back on and it is possible that I will throw in a few extras for such lovely comments. Yes, I may change our sheets a week early this year! Do I know how to treat my man or what?!

You might wonder if I feel guilty for strong-arming my husband into commenting on my blog. And to that I say--Hellz no! If you have been reading long enough, you know I am shameless and not above whining, threats and mental torture. I learned it from my kids. Anyway, with his comment I achieved half of my personal comment best for my last post. Ha! Ok, well one of the comments was my own. So maybe a third of my personal best. I do have a dream that one day I might achieve ten comments on one post. If Jesus can reveal himself in a grilled cheese sandwich, if Britney Spears can get her driver's license back, if my husband can take time out from working (or as I like to call it, gallivanting) to comment on my blog, then I know miracles can happen. And someday, it could happen to me. Or not. It's up to you people. So will you do the right thing or will you burn in eternal hellfire? Let me know by going to my comment section. tee hee

One more thing--Hey Alan, wifely duties are suspended until you cut the grass!! ;)

**Notice**

It has come to my attention that my own husband has not commented on my blog for the last EIGHT posts. I know I speak for all of you when I say this is shocking and egregious. As you all know, comments are very important to a blog and since I need all the comments I can get, I have decided that drastic measures are called for. I am hereby suspending all of my wifely duties until such time as my husband chooses to resume supporting his wife. This is effective immediately until this crisis is over. Thank you and I, J.Hi, have approved this message.

**I'm coming after you next, sister-in-law!!!

Trifecta

My weekend was pretty fantastical! It had all the element of a perfect weekend--fall, football, and free stuff.

We attended a fall festival that was sponsored by my employer so everything was free. And my motto is 'If it's free, it's for me.' If there are more than one blowup jumpy thing at an event my boys give it five stars. Shepard declared, "That vegetable was awesome!"

We arrived home in time to see our football team lay the smack down in OT and win the game. Very exciting. In fact when we went to a neighborhood event later in the evening, one little girl said to me, "I heard a lot of screaming in your house earlier. What was going on?" Yeah, when my team is on, I am a screamer. I get very emotional. Sometimes I scare Alan. But what's new?

Sunday we made our annual trek to the Pumpkin patch. I always get the best pictures at the pumpkin patch. So now that we have our pumpkins, the Halloween preparations are complete. Yes, we all have our costumes--the boys started planning their costumes in August. Alan and I always dress up for our neighborhood party. The neighbors are already trying to get out of us what we will be this year but they will not break me!! They might get it out of the boys though--they are weak.

Gas money to get to pumpkin patch: $15

All you can carry pumpkins for one price : $20

Saying to Alan, "Just hold on, wait, don't move,

I've got to get your picture, ok smile, come on, smile! : Priceless

Everything I need to know I learned on South Park

So these are my choices. Really?! I usually do not delve into politics on this blog because politics is just too icky. When you visit J.Hi I want to you leave feeling warm, euphoric and safe like you just went back and visited your mother's womb--yes, please, come and float in my amniotic sac and be nourished by my placenta. Mmmmm, isn't that nice?

I don't want you feel like you have been thrust out in the cold world all wet and screaming with people telling you what to do and getting all up in your shit. However, the subject is on my mind, people! You feeling me? I know you are thinking about it too. You watch TV or read the paper with that frustrated helpless feeling. You look at your neighbor and wonder if they feel the way you do or are they a complete idiot--they are probably the latter because anyone who is not smart enough to turn off their outside floodlight at night so it shines right in my face when I am trying to sleep can not be trusted to vote the correct way. Damn idiot neighbor!!! You also are probably checking what you say around others because you don't want to come off too religious or too elitist or too racist or too communist. You might be sitting quietly by at a dinner party of friends when all of a sudden you are blindsided by a political lecture and urged to "do the right thing" and vote for their candidate (while you are rolling your eyes inside your own brain.)

So I call SHENANIGANS!!! Shenanigans on both of these candidates. Watch this clip and just replace the carnival workers for the government/politicians and you will know how I feel. They are both going to take us to the same place, but one is the tortoise and one is the hare. I am going to vote but I am not going to let them limit my choice. I feel like just slitting my wrists and bleeding all over the ballot in protest. Wouldn't that be cool? Maybe I could be famous like Joe the Plumber! Or I might just be put away for awhile to "rest."

I will vote my conscience--and it won't be for you know who or the other one either. I will vote and then I will go home and continue doing the things I enjoy doing like watching reality shows, eating Cheetos on my sandwich, shooting guns, attending gay weddings, spanking my children, having irresponsible sex with my husband, praising Jesus, listening to Satanic heavy metal music, recycling and using any damn kind of light bulb I damn well please. I'm an American and I am free to do it--for now anyway.

Countdown to Halloween

Three weeks and one day until Halloween!!!!

Are you scared?!

Ain't no party like a J.Hi party

Yesterday was my birthday and I am now solidly in the late 30s category. Ack! Getting older isn't really bothering me yet. Although I am a bit worried about my labia. I had a co-worker once who was about 15 to 20 years older than me. She said that as she got older her labia began to drop and I have been freaked out ever since. So I said to Alan, "Look at my labia."
"Wha? Huh?"
"LOOK AT THEM!"
"OK OK, I'm looking."
"Are they dropping?"
"No, they look fine."
"Measure them."
"WHAT?"
"You heard me. Get the ruler."
"Your labia are fine. They have not dropped."
"Thank God, safe for another year."

So here are some things that were great about my birthday...

1. Bacon--2, count them, 2 slices of bacon, bitches
2. Naked nap
3. Birthday money and guilt free shopping with MY birthday money
4. Sage played "Happy Birthday" on his guitar for me
5. My mom made me a blackberry cobbler even though she had to hunt around town for blackberries
6. When my 20 year old niece said, "You look really good for 38!!" hee hee
7. All of my email, blog and Facebook birthday wishes (Awwwwwww)
8. Tame family party with little to no drama

There weren't many, but here are a few things that disappointed me about my birthday...

1. Not enough time to shop with MY birthday money
2. I still had to do dishes, laundry and scoop cat litter
3. No half-naked men to carry me around on a royal birthday litter so my feet wouldn't have to touch the ground
4. Tame family party with little to no drama

So here is my birthday rap...

I'm 38, I'm a bad ass ho
My labia ain't swinging low
At an all night party I'm known as Speed Racer
Drinking liquor and beer with a Maalox chaser
Rollin' down hard with my birthday wishes
Fuck you all, I'm 38 bitches!

**Just so you know the last two lines were written by Alan because I was stuck. Yes, I am appalled too. I didn't know he was so gangsta.

A Sage moment

Sage asked, "Do you ever wish you had a girl?"

I replied, "No, never. Never have I wished that I had a girl."

Sage, "Why?"

"Because I love my dirty, smelly, crazy boys."

"Don't forget disgusting" Sage said.

"Oh yeah, disgusting too."

Then I added, "I love everything about you, just the way you are....... although you could talk back less."

And with a devilish grin, Sage said, "In your dreams."

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't

Here's my problem with blogging. I know I should blog more often, probably everyday. However, it's all about integrity. I cannot put something out there that I don't think is up to my high standards--maybe not high so much as moderately high or low to moderately high--yes, that's it, low to moderately high standards. I have to be inspired to blog and my day to day life sometimes is not that inspiring. You people really don't want to hear about my endless battle with laundry--I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes, I put the clothes in the basket, I am too tired to put the clothes away, the cat pees on the clothes in the clean laundry basket, I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes...

You definitely don't want hear about how my eyes had an allergic reaction to my contacts and how they were all bloodshot and drunk looking. And how I had to wear my nerdy glasses for a week straight and I hated it. But my friends at work thought I looked sexy and called me "The Naughty Librarian."

I do not want to bore you with stories about Alan's ring rash--it's on his wedding band finger so he cannot wear his wedding band for the week while it heals. And how I'm totally fine with that even though I will be having him followed while he is not wearing it. (I'm watching you, Alan!) We are considering tattooing a ring on his ring finger so this won't be an issue in the future. And when I say we, I mean me.




And I am absolutely not going to blog about how at a recent neighborhood party I ended the evening looking like this...

'Cause that would just be embarrassing.

There are too many things in my life that just aren't worth mentioning--like how my bathtub was filled up with water, sand, and dirty Legos for a week before Sage cleaned it OR how I cannot afford any home improvement right now so I just move furniture and pictures around to pretend that I have new stuff OR how I know I will never be thin because my gym is right next to a Mexican restaurant and while I am working out I smell the food and fantasize about Chimichangas OR how I secretly practice talking like Heidi Klum because she sounds so fricking cool Or how I think pumpkins are sexy.

I refuse to blog about these nothings. I only want to blog about somethings. So I am stuck waiting and waiting for those somethings--those interesting somethings--to happen. You will know when they happen becaue then I will blog. But until that time I will just have to remain silent. I'm out!

The art of killing the mood: Chapter 2

As the rain of Hanna poured outside, Alan and I were snuggled up in the bed starting a little storm of our own. Apparently hurricanes turn Alan on. Actually, so do blizzards, heat waves, partly sunny days, partly cloudy days, isolated showers, and scattered showers. And don't even get me started on areas of high pressure. Weather, all weather turns him on.

As Hanna raged outside (or whimpered really--I've seen thunderstorms worse than you, Hanna!) the mood inside was serene and sexy UNTIL...Knock, knock, knock.

Sage calls, "Mommy, Daddy!"

Alan said, "Yes, Sage. What do you need?"

Sage, "Shepard said God!"

Alan, "Well, please tell him to say Gosh or Goodness."

Sage, "Ok"

Dang, foiled by the Ten Commandments! Didn't see that one coming.

And then there were none

Shepard started his last year of preschool today. He loves school and was ready to go. Last week we went to meet his teacher and he became totally outdone with me because I wouldn't leave. He said, "Just leave me, Mommy." I told him, "Shepard, I can't leave you. We are only here to meet your teacher." Shepard, "Go, Mommy!" Separation anxiety, what's that? Never really experienced that with Shepard. Not only was he born with a tremendous head, but also born with an adventurous spirit and fierce independent streak.

I will never forget when he was almost two years old. I was doing chores around the house one day when the door bell rang. I opened the front door to reveal my neighbor from across the cul-de-sac who was holding Shepard. I was shocked and embarrassed since I had not even realized that Shepard was not in the house.

The morning started with a tantrum. Shepard has very specific ideas about fashion and it goes like this: Whatever Mommy picks out is absolutely unacceptable. He will not wear khaki pants (actually he will wear khaki shorts but not long pants.) T-shirts are his shirt of choice and he refuses to wear any shirt that has buttons. If I say "Shepard, I have a shirt for you to put on." He replies suspiciously, "Does it have buttons?" I also like to use that as a threat. "Shepard, you better start behaving or I will make you wear a shirt with buttons." And then he wails, "Noooooooo, not buttons!"

So back to the tantrum...I made a deal with him that I would choose the first day of school outfit but after that he could pick his outfits. Well, he was not pleased with my choice. He said that everyone would laugh at him.

What is it with kids today? I once wore a shirt to MIDDLE school that had Popeye the Sailor Man on it just because I didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings. It's true, I had to wear my winter coat all day to save myself the embarrassment. And in one careless moment the coat slipped open and this bratty fat kid with braces saw it. And yes, he laughed at me, AND pointed, no less. But I sacrificed a little (ok, a lot) of pride just for my mom. But will my boys do that for me?! Of course not. His shirt was not that bad. At least it wasn't Popeye.

I made him wear the shirt anyway because WE HAD A DEAL! He cried for about 20 minutes--through getting dressed, teeth and hair brushing. He cried all the way down to the breakfast table and he almost broke me. I was about to give in when he suddenly stopped crying and said in a mopey voice, "Ok, I'll wear it." Then he was all smiles for the rest of the morning. And there was peace on Earth.

Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last

School supplies in hand, Sage climbed on the big yellow cheese today and started 3rd grade. I love Sage so much, I really do. But I think I love him more during the school year than during the summer. You know, too much of a good thing and all. This morning he popped right up when I woke him and gave me no trouble. I expect the meltdown tomorrow when the new 3rd grade smell wears off.


So here is my little man who asked me if he could walk to the bus stop by himself this year. When I said no that one of his parents would be walking with him, he whined, "But it is so embarrassing!!"


Isn't he handsome with his new Clone Wars lunchbox?


When all the kids were kissed and loaded and the bus pulled away the parents let out whoops of delight. Well it was really the moms, the dads just looked clueless. But don't they always?!

The art of killing the mood:Chapter 1

The boys were downstairs watching Star Wars: Episode III. Alan and I were upstairs alone in our room. As Alan was rounding 3rd base and going for the home run, we heard Shepard yelling, "MOMMY!" Alan cracked the door and answered, "Yes Shepard, what's going on?" Shepard, "I am wiping myself!!" Alan replied, "Great, you do that" as he is closing the door. But stopped when he heard Shepard yell, "Come down here now!" Alan asked, "Why?!" Shepard, "There is still poop in my butt."

Pandora's got herself a big brown beaver

Pandora is our cat. She is a rather large girl--Alan calls her "Kitty the Hutt" but she was our first baby and we love her. But it is not always easy to love her because she's a raging queen diva bitch at times. She is very affectionate to Alan and I but if anyone else tries to pet her she will give them a vicious hiss and sometimes a smack. She doesn't scratch them though, she's a lady.

Pandora also does not like her brother, Diablo, very much. We took Diablo in when Pandora was two. We thought she would like the company but we were wrong. She was PISSED and wouldn't have anything to do with us for about 6 months. Even after nine years of having him around she still growls at him and smacks him a good one whenever he gets too close to her majesty. She has never taken to the kids much either. When Sage was little and she hissed at him he would cry. It really hurt his feelings. Shepard, however, just hisses back and laughs at her.

One of our favorite things to do is tease the kids with her. If they keep jumping in our bed at night instead of staying in their bed, Alan will pick her up and tell the kids, "Here comes Pandora to cuddle up with you." And the kids run screaming. Or if they are bugging the crap out of me about wanting a cookie, I will say, "Sure you can have a cookie, but you have to kiss Pandora first." Hee hee, I love that one. Hey, what good are kids if you can't amuse yourself by tormenting them? Shepard actually did kiss her once and he didn't even lose an eye. He must have really wanted that cookie.

Yes, there are advantages to having Pandora around. BUT, and when I say 'but' I mean BUTT, here's the biggest drawback to our portly pussy. She leaves track marks on carpet. I have written about this before in one of my old posts entitled Pussy Problems. Check it out because that post has one of my favorite and most hilarious pictures of Alan in it. The gist of it is this--she is too large to clean herself properly and so she drags her butt along the carpet and leaves us the evidence.


Can you see them? It's kind of hard with our carpet, but try,ok? Squint, close one eye, cross your eyes, drink a beer, whatever. Just look closely--any vertical lines you see should not be there. I can count at least 6. That's Pandora's butt trail--aka shit. They're more impressive in person.


We try to manage this problem by washing and shaving the kitty booty. Then the vet tells me that we also need to bring her in regularly to have her anal glands expressed. Ex-Queef-Me?! Why the hell do cats have anal glands and are they really necessary? Do they serve any purpose than just to make me retch? Can't they be removed? I had all these questions and nowhere to turn until I found The Anal Sac web page. Thank God for it because it answered all my questions. Yes, they can be removed--an anal sacculectomy--but I probably cannot afford that. I also cannot afford to take her to the vet every couple of weeks for this procedure. So I informed Alan that it would be up to him to learn how to express Pandora's anal glands. He scowled at me and said, "You just want to watch me do it so you can point and cheer." Oh, that man knows me so well.

What do you think...separated at birth???

Commando or no?

This past winter Sage went through a 'Bounty Hunter' stage. Alan was reading Sage a series of Star Wars books about Boba Fett. Remember him? He was the bounty hunter hired by Jabba the Hutt to capture Han Solo in Episode IV and then was eaten by the Sarlacc in "Return of the Jedi." Yes, when you live with a geek you can't help but absorb some of the geekiness.

Sage came up with his own bounty hunter costume and he would roam the neighborhood in search of people to capture. And whatever Sage does, Shepard does too. Apparently bounty hunters wear masks that only show their eyes and Sage did not have such a mask. So he improvised.

Yep, that's underwear on their heads. Although I applaud his creativity I did wonder what the neighbors thought of me with my boys running around peeking out the hole of their undies. "Son, you got a panty on your head." Quick, do you know what movie that's from? First one who names it will be the winner of the day. And no Google cheating!

Fortunately, none of the neighbors really noticed except for the 10 year old girl who lives two doors down. I overheard her say, "Sage, you left your underwear in my yard again." Ha, I might not hear that again until he's 16.


Shepard felt quite a bond with Sage during this time. He said to me, "When Sage wears underwear on his head, he's my best friend."

It's been many months since Sage has donned his bounty hunter apparel. But recently, while I was on underwear patrol (I have to monitor the boys to make sure they are wearing underwear because they often forget and since they also forget to zip up their fly, it's an important job) I handed Sage some underwear to put on. He said, "Mommy, these are the underwear I wear on my head!" I said, "I thought you didn't do that anymore." He said, "Oh, I do that in the winter. It's too hot now." So wearing your drawers on your head is seasonal. I did not know that!

What the funk?!

All two of my readers may have noticed that I have not posted for quite some time. Well, you can blame my children for that, I sure do. I was experiencing a severe 'Summer Funk' brought on by spending way too much time in close proximity to my children. They have doused my creative flame. At the end of the day I have barely had the energy to lift the cocktail to my lips let alone put coherent thoughts in a post. I am spending my days acting as the cruise director for two tough customers. If I try to sit and have a minute at the computer I get, "Mommy, can you set the pool up?...Mommy, can you make me a snow cone?...Mommy, can you come wipe me?...Mommy, can we go outside?...Mommy, can you make me a snack? Mommy, can I watch a show? Mommy, you fill my water gun? Mommy, Mommy, MOMMY!!"

It's not just the constant requests that have sapped my creative spark, it's the whining--I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm bored, I'm hot, I'm cold, my feet hurt, my head hurts, my butt itches, he hit me, he's looking at me, he's copying me, he touched my legos, he's annoying me, I don't want to go there, I don't want to walk, why can't you buy it for me, YOU'RE MEAN!!

And finally there's the housework. I feel like I do nothing but pick up after them, do dishes, do laundry, and clean up the yard. I try and enlist their help but sometimes I just cannot stand any more whining. So I do it myself while plotting ways I will get back at them when they are teenagers.

After weeks of this, my summer funk turned in to an all out depression. I was convinced my children were the spawns of Satan, my life was the suckiest suckfest that ever sucked from the teat of the Queen of Suckdom AND it was all Alan's fault. Alan recognized that I was about to go all Oprah on his ass--the weeping, the constant need to talk about my feelings, and the never ending and fruitless search for my spirit. So he said, "Let's go away together--alone."

So we just returned from a lovely and relaxing long weekend in Charleston, SC. We slept late, we shopped, we ate amazing food, we drank great wine, we walked hand in hand, and we took naps. It was wonderful and just what I needed--a little separation from the kids does wonders for my attitude. I am feeling better and more patient now and am hoping this little venture will sustain me until school starts again.

That's right, I'm back!! Are you scared? I will now bust out a little rhyme to celebrate. (Lyrics borrowed from a great poet and my personal Red Neck Fantasy, Kid Rock)

J.Hi is back in original form
The legible, credible, inevitable storm
Way past the norm still misbehavin'
Finger in the air and the flag still wavin'


Happy Anniversary, Alan! Thanks for your love, friendship, support, and 14 years worth of amazing Os. Kisses!

Waxing poetic

I am in love with my new waxer. Her name is Anna Paula and she is Brazilian. Not only is she a true Brazilian giving me my Brazilian, but she is also deaf!!! Isn't that SCH-weet?! She cannot hear my screams AND I don't have to make idle chit chat while my coochie is being savaged. She is my perfect ten of hoo-ha strippers.

Actually, I didn't scream at all because she was so good. I did whimper once or twice but she couldn't hear those either! She gave me exactly what I wanted and didn't annoy me by asking if I wanted a lightning bolt or a heart waxed on the front. Honestly, who does that? At the end she gave me a thumbs up which I took to mean that my special area was one of the best she had ever seen.

I wrote a Haiku about her and here it is:

This crotch is happy
You are gentle and silent
My Anna Paula

Preemptive strike

A while back I made a stupid promise that if I didn't lose 20 pounds by the end of June then I would post a bathing suit picture on my blog. Well, I already know I will not make my goal of 20 pounds. However, I am very proud of what I have done. I have lost 10 pounds, many inches and one chin. I look better in pictures which was my main goal. So I am happy with my progress and my body. I am going to continue my weight loss efforts and maybe someday I will reach my 20 pound goal. However, I am prepared to face the music and do what I promised. So here it is.... Huh?!

Well, since I am in handcuffs and spreading them, I won't be able to post that picture. Oh well, sucks to be you. Got to go, I think I am about to be tazed. Be gentle, officer!

Me so hungry

I have been married to Alan for almost 14 years and I have noticed that he still gets hungry pretty often. Not that he shouldn't because I can serve up some pretty good food. But you would think that after such a long time that he wouldn't be as hungry as he used to be. Not so. In fact, sometimes he gets so hungry that he cannot think straight and he gets a dazed look in his eyes like he is under some kind of hungry spell. There is nothing I can do to snap him out of it but give him a good meal.

I think it is true that women just don't get hungry as often as men. Or maybe it's just because we cannot compartmentalize our life like men do. We get so caught up in the tasks at hand or what's coming up that we often don't think about food. I admit that at times I feel like eating is just a burden, just another thing I have to do. Sometimes I don't feel like I have the time to build up a good appetite because Alan always gets hungry first. When Alan gets hungry I usually feel one of two ways. Either "I am NOT hungry at all so stop waving your food in my face and leave me alone so I can watch 'Top Chef' in peace" or I agree to eat even though I don't feel that hungry. The funny part is that once I start nibbling, I realize "Wow, I really was hungry" and I enjoy the meal.

Some women are all about the appetizers, but not me. When I start eating I just want to go right to the main course because that's my favorite part. Alan seems to enjoy the appetizers because he likes a long, relaxed meal. I tend to favor the quick and dirty meals.

Now don't think I never get hungry, because I do. Every so often when the planets are aligned I get completely ravenous, I'm talking a fierce hunger. These are the times that I can empathize with Alan. But that's the great thing about men--they can eat most anytime and most anywhere. So Alan is always willing to serve up a great meal for me and he is an amazing chef.

Writing this post has made me hungry. I called Alan at work and asked "What time are you coming home?" He said, "I'll leave in an hour or an hour and a half. Why?" I said, "Because I am hungry." Alan, "I'm leaving right now."

Mmmmmmm.....good eats!

An itchy chigger finger

This past weekend was an adventure. To celebrate the end of school for the summer, we whisked the boys away for a few days in the mountains. We stayed at a little cabin secluded in the woods complete with a babbling creek running right next to us. I am serious it actually babbled. The cabin was quite rustic and, when I say rustic, I mean without an Internet connection. I spent all weekend without the Internet, without a cell phone signal, AND without a dishwasher! No, I am not relating a nightmare I had--it actually happened.

I have never felt the need to be one with nature. Growing up I was not really exposed to to the outdoors. I've never been camping in my life. My parents were beach people, not campers. I was a Girl Scout but all I remember from that time is learning how to make a Betty Crocker box cake or fashioning lovely Christmas ornaments out of Popsicle sticks and glitter. I am not opposed to the outdoors. I love looking out of the window at it. And I love sitting on my deck sipping a frosty beverage, smelling the flowers, and watching the fireflies light up the night. But experiencing it up close and personal just doesn't come natural for me.

However, I have two boys. And because I have boys I feel a responsibility to give them an appreciation of the outdoors. I would love for them to hike and fish and explore like boys should do. So I am trying my best for them but, like I said, it doesn't come naturally. I am working my way up to full blown camping so I thought a weekend in a cabin would be a good start, to ease me into it.

It's true we did not have Internet, cell phone service or a dishwasher, but our cabin wasn't totally barbaric. We had beds, a kitchen, and a small TV with a DVD player. We cooked most of our food on the grill outside and had S'mores over the campfire. It's still not my favortie thing but it was quite peaceful and wonderful at times. And I will share what I observed...

--Maybe it's just me, or because I am an 80's child, but when I am in a secluded spot in the woods, I always look around to plot my escape route in case an insane killer wearing a freakish mask comes to kill me.

--Marshmallows are disgusting in any form.

--As a girl, if I were to explore a creek, I would hop from rock to rock, being ever so careful not to get my shoes wet or fall in. Boys are not like that. Note to self, bring more clothes next time.

--I hate bugs and they know it. I am outside trying to enjoy myself and they keeping touching me and forcing me to run screaming while flapping my arms "Leave me alone! Stop touching me! I'll kill you, you fuckers!! I will. Where's the Raid?! Some Bugger Fuckers are going to die tonight!"

--I don't know what the hell a chigger is or what it looks like, but I am absolutely sure one has taken over the 3rd toe on my left foot. It freaking itches a lot! And I think my toe is even moving by itself. There, it just twitched. I am so screwed.

--If you allow your boys to run around naked in a rainstorm, that will be the first thing they tell their grandparents about the trip. And, if they were running naked in a rainstorm because they were copying one of their parents (who was not me,) that will be the second thing they tell their grandparents.

**Interesting side note about the rainstorm...After the running naked episode, we all decided to watch the movie "Sky High." This lead to an interesting discussion about what our preferred super power would be if we could choose. Shepard chose super speed and throwing fire bombs, Sage picked shape shifting, I picked flying and getting people to do what I ask them the first time I ask them, and Alan picked X-ray vision (probably because of the boobies) and super strength. Though Sage decided that Alan's power should be super fart. HA!!


I think the most important thing I learned is when you are roughing it make sure you bring alcohol, and plenty of it!

Here I am enjoying nature and a beer. As you can see, I am not straying far from the citronella candle.

F-ing bugs!

Riddle me this

Why is it that my husband can play X Box 360 until 2 in morning but falls asleep at 9:30 while watching TV with me? I guess it's the interactive component. So does that mean I should try and kill him intermittently while we are watching our favorite show--to keep him on his toes? And how is it that the X Box 360 was Sage's birthday present but Alan got 4 games while Sage only got one?

Why is it that they made the kids go to school half way into June yet this whole week all they have done is watch movies? Why do the teachers think "Oh, standardized tests are done, I'm just a baby sitter now!" Isn't there something they could teach them this week? How about some important life skills like safety while cutting your parents lawn? or folding clothes and putting them in drawers? or killing, gutting, cleaning, and cooking a deer? or giving your mom a facial? or sewing your own damn button on your own damn pants?

And when was it that I became such a fuddy-duddy adult who thinks life should be about learning lessons and not playing games or watching Bill Nye the science guy for a week?

Who the hell says fuddy-duddy anymore?

Why is it that I think Sage being tardy yesterday is funny? I guess it's Van Halen's fault. It's just fun to dance around, point at him and sing, "Sage is tardy! Sage is tardy!" "Do you feel tardy? Because you are TA-A-A-Ardy!!" Sage did try and defend himself, "I was tardy because of you, mommy." Oh just because I made him carry a six pound bag of pretzels into class with him for the end of year party! What a whiner!

Why is it that bulk foods excite me so? I go to Costco and I just can't control myself. I want to buy like 3 months worth of food and then hole up in the house for the summer clinging to my guns and my religion. And a six pound bag of pretzels for five bucks seems like a great idea at the time until they make my 8 year old tardy.

Why is it that my cat takes about 5 minutes to heave up that hairball? I mean it's like huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack...and it disgusts me but I can't look away until he's done. And why is it that even though we have hardwood everywhere downstairs he always has to go to the rug to throw up?

And finally, why is it that I can't get that Soulja Boy song out of my head. I don't even know the words but I keep singing it anyway. Aaaaaaaaaah, Soulja boy da da da oh, wha wa ba ba wha wa rooooooolllll, wha wa crank that Soulja boy, Superman, la la la Ooooooohhhhhhhhh. And how many times will I have to watch it on You Tube to purge it from my brain forever...or to memorize it and learn the dance--whichever. Crank that thang.

Sage through the ages

How did we get from here.......................................to here?

June 9th, 2000--Sage was born. He was breech so they slit me open like a fish and pulled him into this world. Knowing Sage, I am pretty sure this was his plan all along--to make a dramatic entrance, butt first.


He was such an adorable and easy going baby, he lulled me into thinking it was going to be a piece of cake.

I should have known he was different when at 3 years old he told his preschool class that for Halloween he was going to be a Minotaur. The teacher said, "Well, Sage, can you tell us what a Minotaur is?" "Half man, half bull, " he explained. I am more of a 'buy the costume' type than 'make the costume' type, however Minotaur costumes are nonexistent so I had to figure it out. I was starting to wonder if I could keep up with this boy.




When he was 3 years and 11 months Shepard was born. I will never forget the smile on his face when he met and held him for the first time. Now Sage acts the part of the typical older brother--telling him the thunder is going to get him, telling him the dentist is going to hurt him, standing behind him and whispering "The darkness" over and over again until Shepard runs away crying. But there are times when I see him look at Shepard with that same glowing smile and I can feel the love.



Age 5 and off to school he went without a look back at Mom and Dad. That's when most of our troubles began. I have had to share him with the world and I am not happy about it. In three years we have already had to deal with bullying, unacceptable friends, forgery and his aversion to education. I tried to tell him "Education is the best gift you can ever receive." To which he replied, "NO, a motor bike is the best gift you can ever receive!" He is stubborn, moody, and likes to get a rise out of me. In a moment of unexpected honesty, he once admitted that he will say things just to see me yell. Sometimes I feel like I am always two steps behind him. The day he was born my heart became an open wound that will never heal. He'll never know how much I think about him and struggle with every decision I make. I hope I am doing right by him.

Though he is challenging at times I still love his wide open spirit. He is not afraid to show his enthusiasm, to shake what his mama gave him, to laugh and be laughed at, and to show who he is without apology. Never dull, he can always surprise me and most of the time make me smile.




Raising Sage is like reading a great novel--I cannot put it down and look forward to turning each page because I can't wait to see what happens next.
Happy 8th Birthday, Sage!!

Be careful what you wish for--It might just spray you in the face

My son Shepard, being the 2nd child, is far more independent than his brother. One thing that he doesn't do, and seemingly has no desire to do, is wipe his own butt. About 6 months ago Alan came to me and said, "Shepard needs to learn how to wipe his own butt." To which I said, "Look, Shepard is the 2nd and last child we will ever have. He is my baby and if wants us to wipe his butt, then we should do it. If he wants us to wipe his butt until he is 21, then so be it!! He is our baby, Alan, our last sweet boy!!!" Alan said, "Um, ok" and left not intending to listen to me. I could tell by the way he walked away shaking his head and muttering "Crazy woman hormones."

The weatherman predicted hot as your brain on drugs yesterday so Shepard and I went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch and fun on the indoor play set. In the middle of his glee he abruptly stops and in a pained voice declares he has to go to the bathroom. Then he runs. By the time I caught up with him he was already in the stall with the door locked. I can see him through the crack in the stall and he is sitting--uh oh. And then, "Mommy, I'm pooping!" That is usually my cue to come and do the wiping. But this time I say, "Sorry, Bud, you locked the door and I can't get in. Can you unlock the door?" He yells, "I can't! There's poop in my butt!!" Snickers from the other bathroom occupants. I tell him, "Well, you will just have to wipe yourself this time." Shepard says, "No, I can't! You need to crawl under." "No, Shepard, I am not crawling under." He tries again and through the crack I see him pointing to show me the way, "Just crawl under there." "No Shepard, I cannot crawl under."

I see him hop off of the toilet, do the 'pants around your ankles and poop in your butt' shuffle up to the door. He unlocks and I enter the stall and lean over to see the damage. I silently apologize to Sheryl Crow 'cause I am going to need a lot more than one square for this job. So while I'm bent over wiping my son's ass the tsunami-loud automatic flushing toilet keeps going off and spraying me in the face with toilet water. Aw hell, was my mouth open?! Shepard says, "Are you done?" Toilet flushes again. Alan might be right about this one. This baby is going to Daddy's butt wiping boot camp ASAP.

I'm melting, what a world!

For the past two weeks we had family visiting from London. (Holla M&M and The British!) We had a great time but the drinking, oooohhh, all the drinking and eating. Too much eating. It had to end! I never thought I would be looking forward to going back on my diet, but I am.

So here's a diet update--It's slow but there has been progress. I have lost a good solid 8 pounds. I was hoping for more by this point but I have to face the fact that I am older and have no air brushing at my disposal. On the bright side, I am down to one chin and inches have been lost. I have not been able to drop to the lower size in pants yet; however, the size I wear is very loose on me. Let's just say that my butt crack will definitely be needing some SPF 30 soon.

I have also been exercising, Ack! I am allergic to exercise but the drinking helps me through it. I go to a ladies' gym with my mom. The weight machines are set up in a circle and we cycle through them twice and then we're done. I hate to brag but I am probably the strongest and most energetic of anyone at the gym. Of course most of the women at the gym are about 20 to 30 years older than me. But hey, I'm kicking their ass!!

So here I was feeling good about myself until yesterday.

Sage "Can we go to the pool today?"

Me "No, I'm not ready to get into a bathing suit just yet."

Sage "Because you're fat?"

Actually, I was thinking more of the body hair situation than the fat situation.

Shepard chimed in, "Why are you fat, Mommy?"

Sage "Shepard, Mommy's not fat. She's not!"

Yeah, whatever, he just wanted to go to the pool, the little liar.

Countdown...25 days until my 20th high school reunion. Will I drop a size? Will my butt crack peel? Will the ladies at my gym make it to the end of the month? Will my boys ever develop any tact? Will I throw my scale from a tall building, beat it with a bat, scream at it, spit on it and then try to weigh again? Is the suspense killing you? Stay tuned.

Saving our planet one bite at a time

I think we all need to face the fact that our planet is in trouble. I am talking about Global Warming--it's a real bitch and it's coming for you and your children. Al Gore has warned us in his movie 'An Inconvenient Truth.' I have never seen this movie and I never will but, factual inconsistencies and digitally created images aside, it brings home an important point about global warming--it's all our fault and it's up to us to fix it or we die.

I have tried to do my part by using compact fluorescent bulbs, giving up the hair spray, and cutting back on my beer, Benadryl, and bikini wax runs. But my efforts seem trite. I've searched my soul on what else I could do to make a larger impact. What could a person like me--a wife, a mother and a nurse--do to give her life meaning? Today I am starting a campaign that I think will really make a difference in reducing the greenhouse gases in our atmosphere and I hope you will all join me in this effort.

SAVE OUR PLANET, EAT MORE STEAK

That's right, the cows must die to save us all. Do you realize that methane is more potent than CO2 in contributing to greenhouse gasses? Cattle in the U.S. alone emit 5.5 million metric tons of methane per year into the atmosphere. Cow emissions are far more dangerous than all the U.S. SUV emissions combined. I cannot stand idly by while these belching bovines of destruction are polluting our planet. I say we slaughter them and dine upon their flesh.

I am willing to make the sacrifice of eating steak every night (with some fava beans and a nice Chianti) if it means saving Mother Earth. If I have to raid the weapons cache I am amassing under the floor boards of my bed and put a bullet in each cow's brain personally, I will do it. I'll take my message to my family, friends and anyone who can hear me shout from my lawn chair in the front yard. And when I see Al Gore riding by in his limousine or flying overhead in his Lear Jet, I will raise my fists in the air and proudly shout, "We did it, Al!!! We made a difference today!"

After I have taken care of the cows, I will turn my attention to the polar bears. Whose bright idea was it to make them an endangered species?! Has anyone tested their emissions? The polar ice caps are melting at an increased rate and who are the owners of the fat, white butts sitting directly on them? Coincidence?! I don't think so. The polar bears are NOT your friends, people!!

The Key to a Happy Marriage

I admit that I am not good about keeping up with my keys. But the other day it was ridiculous. I had been searching the house--in every dusty corner, under every cushion--for half the day and I was starting to panic. I finally enlisted Alan to help me and he immediately pissed me off with the question he always asks in these situations, "So where is the last place you remember having your keys?" And I responded with the answer I always give, "If I knew that then I would know where they were, wouldn't I?!" Then he told me I need to sit down, clear my mind, and visualize my actions on the previous afternoon. I hate this shit.

Me, "OK, I arrived home with groceries in the trunk. Shepard was with me and I told him to get out of the car and run like a freak to the door because it was pouring rain. I opened the trunk and started to get the bags. Shepard was ringing the doorbell but you didn't open the door for him."

Alan, "I was in the bathroom."

Me, "I don't care. Your child was freezing in the rain."

Alan, "He wasn't freezing, it was 70 degrees."

Me, "That's not the point. You didn't let us in even though I called ahead to let you know I was coming."

Alan, "I had to go to the bathroom."

Me, "You are a grown man. You should have held it."

Alan, "It wouldn't be held. OK, I think we need to do an actual reenactment of the events."

Me, "Are you kidding me?"

Alan, "No, it will help, really. Go out to your car."

So I went out to the car and pretended to get groceries out of the trunk in the rain. I came to the front door and Alan and I reenacted our argument,

Me, "I called you to let you know we were coming! Why didn't you let us in?"

Alan, "I was in the bathroom!"

Me, "So what! Your poor child was standing in the rain and you were just sitting there!!!"

Alan, "WITCH!" Then he said, "Oh, I only thought that at the time."

Me, "ASS! I think I actually said that."

So the reenactment continues. I came in the house loaded with groceries, sniped at Alan and then I remembered something important. As I was passing him in the foyer, Alan said, "So is there anything else in the car?"

Me, "Yeah, the cat litter but I already closed the trunk. Here take my keys and open it."

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa HA!!!!! I looked at Alan and he has that 'Oh whoops' look on his face because now I know I didn't lose the keys, but he did! So he went outside to started reenacting his own actions. I just walked straight to the closet and fished my key out of his rain jacket. So as I was beating Alan about the head and neck for making me think I had lost my keys forever, he was laughing. He grabbed me, held me close and said, "You see, that's what our marriage needs--a little role play. It will spice things up. "